How Books Have Saved Me (a/k/a Outlander was my Targe)
You don’t get to choose when you stumble into love.�� If I could have, I might have chosen to wear something other than a bright blue mud mask although, in retrospect, I believe it might have brought out the blue in my eyes.�� Or at least that is what I��told myself to help assuage the mortification that was unique to��my overly-introspective seventeen-year-old-self.
Even with the blue mud mask, he still went home and told his mother that he met the woman he was going to marry.����I like to believe that this comment speaks more to��the romantic nature of my husband than for��any strange��mud-mask��fetish he may harbor.�� Yes,��he was a romantic soul, that one.�� Still is…just buried a bit deeper��now.�� Time does that.����Once the rosy haze of youth passes, the Real World starts to seep in.����Sweet nothings are replaced by To Do Lists, and��Date Night becomes something that happens��once a month rather than��quarter-monthly.�� Dirty diapers replace dirty talk.�� You find solace where you can.
I found solace in books and television.�� Whenever��Life sucker punched me (as the bitch is wont to do), I retreated into��fiction until I felt steady again.�� I can tell you exactly where I was in my life by what��sustained me.
During my “OMG I Have Three Toddlers and I Think They Stole My Soul” period, I found Harry Potter.�� Molly Weasley reminded me that it was okay to lose my cool, that I always wanted to learn to knit, and that friends are there to help.�� While I can still knit no more than a scarf, I have amassed a lovely collection of now Totally-Recognizable-As-Scarves knitwear, and also more than a few friends that also love the books.
While not a book, I will admit to binge watching all of Doctors 9 and 10 while my husband was away at CLEET training.�� While Hubs was away learning to be a cop, I (with a little help from the Doctor) taught my kids that nerdy glasses are cool and that libraries contain the best weapons of all.�� Books.�� Books are my weapon against fear, and doubt, and loneliness.
During Hub’s heart attack*, I used my battered��copy of Outlander as my shield…my targe.�� So it was no surprise when the odd bit of text floated up when I struggled with sleep.����“Don’t be afraid. There’s the��two of us now.”�� With this offering, I felt a sense of immediate panic.�� Because, perhaps for the first time, I realized–truly realized–that at some point it was very likely that��there would NOT be two of us.�� Life is scary like that.�� It is full of car wrecks, and tornadoes, and accidents and, yes, heart attacks.�� The thought took my breath away.�� The idea of being without him was terrifying.�� Alone had never felt so, well…alone.�� I wanted to wake up Hubs, to convince��myself that he was still here, still next to me, that there was still two of us.�� Maybe I would have, but he gave a small snore and saved me the trouble.
Still, I stayed awake.�� I listened to him breath and thought about the uncertainty of it all…a whole life built on a foundation of our mortality; quite an unsteadying thought. Yet he is the only foundation I’ve got.
I cannot slip through stones like in Outlander.�� But I can open the pages of a book and slip inside, just for a while.�� I can hide among the words until my world steadies, and my head clears.
* You can read more about Hub’s heart attack here.�� If you want to help, you can find out how here.
